


Brave New World

by Heronfem



Series: Where There's Smoke [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon Trans Character, Firefighter!Krem, Fluff, M/M, discussions on gender, discussions on sexuality
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-04-04 10:39:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4134393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heronfem/pseuds/Heronfem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Cullen is a little alarmed to find out he's not straight, Krem gets roped into helping the Inquisition army, and somehow it all works out okay.</p>
<p>Picks up Cullen and Krem's story from Chapter 13 of Pound the Alarm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> To sum up: A modern AU where Bull is a firefighter and Dorian keeps setting things on fire. You can see where this is going.
> 
> Cullen and Dorian are good friends, Dorian is a terror and introduced Cullen to Krem just a day before this fic starts. Cullen is Straight with a Capital S, Thank You. Before this, Solas took down the Dean of Magical Theory at the university in New Haven, thus rescuing the Dean's soon to be tramatized victim Merrill. Merill showed up, Cullen freaked out, Krem agreed to come to Skyhold and make sure Cullen doesn't do anything stupid.
> 
> Just go read Pound the Alarm, okay?

Putting it bluntly, when Krem left Tevinter he left his sexuality behind. At the time, it had seemed the logical thing to do. He was on the run, half the Tevinter army after a runaway who’d managed to “trick” them and ascend into the ranks of the Immortal Serpents, and sex was more or less the last thing on his mind. Staying alive took precedence over a roll in the metaphorical (and once, literal) hay.

And then he’d been caught.

Ironically, that was the best day of his life, for that was the day he met The Iron Bull.

Krem had never known anyone like him, except perhaps for one spectacularly bizarre First Lieutenant with a uniform kink and a very strange (for Tevinter) amount of sensuality. But while First Lieutenant Asari oozed sex and lust like an infectious disease, The Iron Bull was more like a solid wall of slightly inappropriate, easy, lazy desire. He was strange, sensual, and to Krem’s immense relief, never propositioned him. The rest of the Chargers, however, seemed to treat his bed like a revolving door.

It took him a good two years to start sleeping in the big piles of people that the Chargers adored. They liked to pile on each other and watch movies, tangled lumps of legs, arms and heads curled together for comfort. He slowly inched in until he was happily surround by warm bodies and laughing friends, and life got better. They moved to New Haven, put down roots, and The Iron Bull still didn’t take him to bed, while the others pulled him into theirs to cuddle.

And then The Iron Bull met an Altus necromancer, and Krem’s life got complicated.

oOo

Krem didn’t have much cause to go up to Skyhold except on those days when Lavellan did remarkably stupid things like accidentally setting the roof on fire (twice), set off the alarms (six times), and setting the garden ablaze (once). Though The Iron Bull was a member of the Inner Circle, and the Chargers were certainly well received when they showed up in Skyhold’s tavern, he didn’t exactly spend much time in the seat of the Inquisitions power. 

But all the gates of Skyhold were opened to him, and he slowly rode his rumbling, grumbling motorcycle up through them, parking off to the side of the wall.

A dwarf in scouting garb briskly jogged over to him as he climbed off, and shook his hand firmly. “Scout Harding, sir. You’re here for Commander Rutherford?”

“Cremisius Aclassi. Looks that way.”

“This way, sir.” They took off at a brisk pace, skirting around workers and the Lady Ambassador, who waved vaguely before hurrying after Blackwall. “My apologies if this is a rude question, but I was told you were a military man.”

Krem startled, but supposed it couldn’t hurt. “Staff Sergeant of the Immortal Serpents. The rank is equivalent to the one the Inquisition uses, a Fereldan Field Marshall, the Orlesian Field Leftenant, and Beresaad Gunnery Sergeant.”

Harding grinned, and he realized just how badly he missed this. “That explains it.” They rounded a corner to reveal the training yard, and she turned to look at him. “Mind if I introduce you as staff sergeant? The dumber ones will pay attention that way, and the smart ones know what a staff means.”

Krem could cry. His _title_ , one he’d never allowed himself to forget, she wanted to use his _title_. No one cared here, except that he was competent enough to have earned it. He schooled his expression, and Harding beamed. “If you please, Scout Harding.”

“A true pleasure, sir.”

Cullen was teaching pole arms that day, it seemed, and straightened when he saw the two approaching. The recruits fell into parade rest, a bristling array of pikes, spears, and what looked like four or five glaives gleaming in the sun. All of them looked to be equipped with long distance lightning runes, the most modern way to combat against the damn gaatlok that the Qunari kept so tightly locked down.

“Commander Rutherford, _sah!_ ” Scout Harding barked, saluting crisply as Krem fell into parade rest behind her. Cullen saluted back, his eyes fixed on Krem. “Staff sergeant Cremisius Aclassi, late of the Tevinter Immortal Serpents _sah!_ ”

“Staff,” Cullen said, his face carefully composed into Commander mode.

“Commander.” He snapped off a salute. “Inquisitor Lavellan has requested I join you for training today.”

“Far be it from me to deny those who _enjoy_ being here,” Cullen said, throwing a glare at the recruits. There was some slightly embarrassed shuffling in the ranks, and a hand shot up in the middle. “ _Yes_ , Private Morris?”

“Permission to ask Staff a slightly weird question, sir?”

Cullen rolled a longsuffering gaze to the heavens, and looked back at Krem, who was trying his best not to laugh. “Well, Staff?”

“I think I can permit it, sir,” he said, swallowing down a smile.

Cullen looked back at the crowd, the picture of annoyed patience. “Well, Private Morris?”

“It is true that they teach you to pole dance so you can use lances as vaults in battle, sir?” 

Private Morris was a ballsy dude.

Krem turned to Scout Harding who was looking on in horrified glee. “Scout Harding, a pike, if you will.” There was murmuring from the crowd, and Krem leveled his best “Staff is not amused” gaze over them. Instant silence. Cullen, he could tell, was hiding a smile. 

He was brought a sturdy pike, and after hefting it a few times to test its balance, nodded approvingly. “In Tevinter,” he said, turning and spinning it easily in patterns around his body, “we practice these moves on those who’ve been misfortunate enough to merit the rage of the commanding officer. However, today the dummy shall serve to demonstrate. Our pole arms are far longer than the standard Fereldan or Orlesian arms, as we often, as said, vault with them onto Qunari. Qunari, as you may have noticed, are just a bit taller than they average human.”

A laugh rippled through the group.

“To answer your question, yes, we’re taught to dance with poles. Dance teaches rhythm and balance, things vital to the work that the Immortal Serpents perform.” He let the pike come to a halt, thumping it hard on the ground. “Ballet was an integral part of my teaching, and saved my life more than once. You may wish to look at finding classes in New Haven in your spare time.” The pike was twirled and thumped to the ground again. “Now.”

He turned to the dummy, and threw the pike like a javelin. It landed smoothly at the dummy’s feet, quivering as the blade buried itself nearly a foot into the ground. He darted forward, grabbed the pole, kicked off, and swung himself smoothly up onto the dummy’s shoulders. He dropped along the dummy’s back, thighs tightening hard enough to crack the wood, and snapped back up in a move that broke the head clear off. Grabbing the pike handle again, he used it to vault himself off in a flip that pulled the pike out and ready to go again.

The dummy’s head dropped beside him.

He rose, twirling the pike, and shrugged. “And _that_ is why Tevene military uniforms are very padded in the thighs.”

From the back came a yelled, “Sir, are you married? May I propose?”

He laughed, falling into parade rest and looking to Cullen and- oh. Oh dear. _Venhedis_

Cullen was looking at him in a way that put him in mind of a very hungry lion, and some traitorous part of his brain he thought was firmly locked down purred, _bet he’d be enthusiastic about eating people out, too._

Oh, sweet Maker, he did _not_ need this today.

oOo

Training went much easier with a staff sergeant who knew his way around pole arms, and after his little demonstration everyone was more than willing to cooperate with Krem barking orders at them. By the end of it Cullen was panting and hoping like hell it wasn’t easy to tell he was uncomfortably aroused. Krem had stripped down to his tank top to reveal the most terrifyingly ripped arms he’d ever seen, and oh, _fuck_ , he definitely wasn’t going to be identifying as straight any more.

Dorian was going to lord this over him until he died, and probably after.

Seemingly oblivious to the gay panic that he’d induced, Krem was surrounded by admirers who all wanted to learn pole tricks. Cullen rested against the wall, the worst of the days stress melting away. Even in the face of his past with Kirkwall, it seemed that working with someone who genuinely wanted to be there helped.

Krem finally shrugged off his admirers, sauntering over to Cullen and lifting a sardonic eyebrow when Cullen grinned at him. “What’s that face for, sir?”

“Oh, nothing. That was certainly something.” He nodded at the now headless dummy.

“I can crush watermelons. It’s an acquired skill.” 

_Do not think about being between his legs, Cullen Stanton Rutherford. Think of literally ANYTHING else_.

“I’d like to see that someday,” he said instead, and immediately went pink. _FUCK. I just said that out loud. Fucking shit._.

Krem, thank the Maker, just looked amused. “We’ll have to make a day of it.” He stretched, the muscles of his arms bulging, and Cullen couldn’t help tracking them with his eyes. A tattoo in jet black covered his left shoulder, the symbol of the Immortal Serpents with _Dum Spiramus Tuebimar_ in intricate scrollwork underneath. One of the newly smitten recruits, a young lance corporal from Ferelden, rushed over to reverently hand him the flannel he’d pulled off, and his leather jacket. The patches on the jacket were loud and vibrant, CHARGERS in bright red across the back with the station number beneath. A variety decorated his sleeves- the Imperiums serpents upside down, signifying that he was no longer a citizen of Tevinter, but the Tevinter staff sergeant badge in vibrant gold still proudly upright were the two most prominent. 

“Staff?” the man said nervously, despite the fact that he was nearly a full foot taller than Krem.

“Yes, lance corporal?”

“Will you be coming to train with us again? Because Commander Cullen is great and we have some really good people working with us but, um.” He swallowed hard, eyes darting to Cullen, who remained impassive. “Commander can’t be everywhere and you’re really good with pole arms. And we’re not.”

Krem looked at Cullen, who smiled and shrugged. “I suppose I could take the time and come up some days,” he said, and honestly, Cullen could have kissed him then and there for how the lance corporal’s face lit up.

“Thank you sir!” He snapped off a salute and hurried off, leaving Krem to pull on his shirt and toss his jacket over his shoulder. 

The man was obscenely attractive, and Dorian was going to be insufferable for weeks. Fucker.

“So, Commander,” Krem said, turning a dazzling smile on him. “What do you say to dinner?”

_I’m going to be thinking about eating you out the whole time. Fucking shit fuck damn I’m going to kill Dorian._

“Company would be… very welcome.”

oOo- Two Days Later, Texts from Dorian's phone

From: Bear Coat  
 _5 lost in space red flags druffalo??? ARMS. Backup._

To: Bear Coat  
_Cullen, what the hell are you talking about?_

From: Bear Coat  
_Looks like chantry. Fuck. Hate you ian_

To: Bear Coat  
_Cullen, you aren’t making any sense at all._

From: Bear Coat  
_Creamsicles._

To: Bear Coat  
_Okay… Don’t drive home tonight, okay? Call a cab._

From: Bear Coat  
_Fuckin ride HIM home tonight fuckin hate you shit BEESR_

To: Bear Coat  
_CULLEN ARE YOU DRINKING WITH KREM_

To: Bull  
_IS KREM WITH YOU_

From: Bull  
_lol wat_

From: Bear Coat  
_hateee youuuu ian so much the hate_

To: Bull  
_I’m sending you screenshots of this_

From: Bull  
_bout time_

From: Unknown  
_Fuck off, Altus_

To: Unknown  
_KREM ARE YOU DRINKING WITH CULLEN_

From: Soporatass  
_He’s drinking, I’m keeping him from dancing on the bar._

To: Soporatass  
_PICS OR IT DIDN’T HAPPEN_

From: Soporatass  
_Do you always type in all caps?_

From: Bull  
_Blackmail?_

To: Bull  
_Guess who’s winning chess this week_


	2. Chapter 2

Objectively speaking, Cullen knew he was not exactly ugly. He was aware, vaguely, that he could be considered attractive with the right lighting and perhaps some closer attention to his shaving. At least, he was pretty sure.

He thought on this as he shaved the morning after a very ill considered night out, cutthroat razor dragging dangerously over his neck. His hands shook far less than normal, for which he was grateful. In the early days of his withdrawal, he’d gone days without shaving for fear that he’d slit his own throat on accident. Now, those days were few and far between, but he still had to look out for them. In the mirror, a rather ragged looking man stared back at him, unblinking.

He cleaned the razor and patted his face down, closing his eyes as a wave of pain hit his head. 

He’d been very, very drunk, and reading over his texts from the night had not helped the growing pit of terror in his stomach.

Make no mistake, Cullen was not looking forward to facing Dorian over the chess board.

He dressed in his usual uniform, grabbing the bear cloak to ward off the chill that pervasively clung to his office even in the hottest months, and considered his face again as he settled it around his shoulders. Could he be considered conventionally attractive? He knew that he and Alistair had been compared more than once, and Alastair seemed reasonable in the facial department. Brains, debatable, but physically he was an attractive man. At least, that’s what he assumed. He’d never had cause to think about it.

“This is getting very complicated,” he told the mirror. It remained unsympathetically quiet.

oOo

Lavellan appeared in his office bearing lunch, and he groaned in relief at the welcome distraction. She grinned, setting down the tray with a flourish. “For my stalwart Commander.”

“I’m nominating you for sainthood,” he said, grabbing an apple from the pile with undisguised glee. “You are a paragon among women.”

Lavellan rolled her eyes, perching on his desk. “Wow, Cullen, tell me how you really feel. And I’m Herald already, I think I’m guaranteed a sainthood. Isn’t that how this sort of thing works?”

“Sort of.” He picked up a piece of the sliced cheese, savoring it. The cook was a maker of profoundly uninspiring foods, but Lavellan had gone out of her way to have this prepared. “Did you put this together?” he asked, looking at the apples, assorted cheese, and stack of three different sandwiches.

“I did. The cook declared that if I wanted to do anything like that, I’d have to do it myself, so I did. I know you like plain foods.” She swung delicate legs, and he sighed contentedly. Once, he had loved her far more than he should, but when he came to understand that there was no possible way she could ever return the emotions, he let it go. Now, she was a dear friend, and that was honestly better.

“You’re a gift.” 

“You have chess with Dorian today, don’t you?” she asked as he started on one of the sandwiches. He nodded, his mouth full. “Oh, good. I needed to swing over and see him, and that way at least I’ll be able to pin him down for a minute. He and Solas got started on an argument and Vivienne got dragged into it, so I’m avoiding the library. There’s a lot of shouting going on.”

“Oh joy.” Lavellan’s gaze turned sneaky, and Cullen blanched. “Oh no. What is it?”

“Oh, nothing really. I just heard that Krem showed off for you the other day.”

 _SHIT_.

“He didn’t show off for me, he showed off for the troops,” he said stiffly.

“By breaking a dummy _with his thighs_.” Lavellan cackled. “I want to learn.”

Cullen rolled his eyes heavenward. “Maker preserve us all.”

“Seriously though, you should try and keep him around.” She leaned over, kissing his temple. “He seems like he’d be good for the soldiers, and good for you.”

Cullen frowned, perplexed. “Good for me?”

She nodded, sliding off the desk, and he obediently slid his chair back so she could perch on his lap instead, a tiny, tactile bird with oversized eyes and the sweetest smile. “Good for you. Strong, smart, and a good leader and trainer. You’re always telling me how much you wish we had other trainers so they didn’t get complacent with just Orlesian and Fereldan tactics.” She passed him an apple and kissed his cheek, and once it would have hurt, but now he just felt deep, warm fondness sinking into his bones. “Offer him a paid consulting position. I talked with Josephine about it, we can afford it.”

He nodded, and obediently took a piece of cheese from her fingers.

oOo

Dorian showed up fifteen minutes late to their chess match, fuming and his hair in spectacular disarray. He dropped heavily into his seat and glared aggressively at the board, shoving a pawn forward. “You would _think_ that between the two of them they would have a working understanding of Frostburgs Laws of Thermodynamics as it applies to Fade and Veil applications, but _no_ , they’re arguing for the extremely outdated, and might I add DISPROVED d’Verre Theory on Magical Transference.”

“I’ve always found d’Verre vastly overrated,” Cullen said, moving his own pawn. “Nevarra’s Bernadette Hessia visited us once and gave a long lecture on the Laws and how the Theory was discredited. It was fascinating.”

Dorian stared. “Since when do you know about magical theory?”

Cullen raised an eyebrow, indicating himself. “Templar? I do have ears, Dorian.”

“Oh. My apologies.”

“No offense taken. Dorian?”

A bold move, the Grand Cleric being slid out. “Yes, my dear Commander?”

“Am I attractive?”

The Grand Cleric fell over. Dorian looked up, staring at him in bafflement and almost a little bit of rage. Cullen winced.

“What on earth brought that up?” he asked, sitting back. Cullen squirmed, and he held up a hand. “Stop that. I’m not angry, just surprised and a little confused.”

Cullen was never going to admit how much he appreciated how Dorian always instinctively knew to reassure him like that. “I… I was thinking this morning. And I have no idea, really. I- I’ve never really allowed myself to _look_ at people, so I feel my perception of conventional attractiveness is a bit flawed and warped.”

Dorian stroked his mustache, his face curiously unreadable. Cullen watched him with mounting anxiety.

“Well,” he said at last, “speaking strictly on your looks, you are attractive. Not quite to my tastes, understand, but you are quite nice in the facial department. You’re well built, you have this whole ruggedly handsome thing going for you, and the blushing is frankly adorable.”

On cue, his cheeks started heating up, and Cullen covered his face with a groan.

“Case in point.” Dorian sounded far too amused. “You’re _sweet_ , Cullen, and that makes up a great deal of attraction. Faces and bodies only go so far, which is something I’m coming to grips with here in your barbaric South. I believe we’ve talked about the Archon breeding program before.”

Cullen peeked out between his fingers, nodding.

“Everyone I slept with of my class could have been my sibling,” he said, shrugging. “We all look very similar. The build is the same, very delicate facial features, trained from birth to move and act in similar ways. Fashion and hair is one of the few freedoms of distinction we have. Felix was… different, for which I am grateful. Before he became sick, he was very broad and thick bodied, vastly different from the rest of us, and I clung to him for it. He was a piece of originality in a very cloned world.” Dorian shook his head, and Cullen straightened up. “Here, there’s a great deal of emphasis put on looking different and being fiercely proud of that. You have your parents looks, or great grandmothers, and so forth. But more than that, you all value personality and actively being _good_ for each other. I’m grateful for that, and glad that you won’t end up like I was meant to, trapped in a loveless marriage.” He paused for a moment, looking off as old memories surfaced. He shook it off and smiled at Cullen. “But, to sum up, yes. You are attractive.”

“Thank you, Dorian,” he said quietly, and the game resumed.

oOo

Krem woke up in Skinner’s bed, sandwiched between her and Dalish, and groaned.

“Shut up,” Skinner muttered, kicking his shin. “S’just noon.”

“Shift in two hours,” he mumbled as Dalish squeezed his waist. “Gotta get up and get home.”

“Mmm.” Skinner reluctantly rolled out of bed, lifting Dalish’s arm off of him so he could escape as well. He staggered through the bodies on the floor to the bathroom, narrowly missing Stitches hand on the way. It had been movie night, and they’d gone to Skinner’s place to hold it. Bull was nowhere to be seen, likely long gone to go and find Dorian, and he scowled at his reflection as he washed up. The Chief was more attached than was comfortable, but there was nothing he could do about it. 

A soft buzz from his phone had him looking, and he grinned. Cullen was calling.

“Commander,” he answered smoothly, and there was a little choking noise on the other end.

“ _Er. Hi.”_

“What can I do for you?

“ _I was wondering if you could come up to Skyhold at some point today. Lavellan wants to speak with you_.” 

Lavellan? Well. That was unexpected. “I’ll see if I can have someone cover my shift. If not, would tomorrow be all right?”

“ _Perfectly fine. And, um. Thank you for last night.”_

“Oh no,” Krem said, thinking of the hilarity, “Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I'm going to rework chapter one, once I have time this evening or next. The Demands of the Qun IV is taking up quite some time.


	3. Chapter 3

“We find ourselves in a bit of a mess,” Lavellan said brightly as she walked with him along the walls. The day was bright and puffy clouds chased each other overhead, the snowy mountains beyond the city stabbing moodily up into the sky. It was about as far from Tevinter as he could possibly imagine, and a little warmth brightened his heart. “I intended to have Cullen talk to you about this, but he got swamped by paperwork and the bullshittery of effectively running this operation. Supposedly I’m in charge, but we both know who really keeps this place afloat, and what people keep him afloat.”

He swallowed a smile. “I was unaware your Grace was militarily minded.”

“I’ve had an interesting life,” she said with a lazy shrug. “Enough to know that NCO’s can be the most valuable members of a fighting force. Non commanding my excellently shaped ass, you and I are both aware of the power you wield.” She paused, looking over the battlements. “And you and I are both perfectly well aware of how Cullen needs a reprieve.”

Ah. Now they were getting to the crux of the matter. “Indeed, your grace.”

She turned back to him, intent. “We can offer you a stipend to act as a consult. Obviously, if you intended to join the army here full time we’d have to go through Bull and deal with contracts and other assorted shit, but I doubt you want that. The long and the short of it is that we have, in essence, no decent NCO’s. Those we have can be called functional at best, and none of them are proficient trainers. I’ve heard how you work, and I want you. Cullen wants you, though I’m fairly sure that he wants you in _very_ different ways.”

Krem resolutely didn’t blush. “The Commander is a handsome man. I appreciate the attention, as skittish as it is.”

“Glad to hear it.” She smiled with all her teeth, and a shiver rolled down his spine.

“As to your proposal, I think I’d like that,” he said, and she brightened. The hint of strange, feral danger passed. “I can’t guarantee my hours, but I can probably arrange something.”

“Excellent. I know you retain the rank of staff sergeant from your time in Tevinter, but I’d like to move you to a new rank. I believe the approximation in Tevinter would be Sergeant Major, which seems a reasonable term that we could use.”

The only reason his jaw didn’t disconnect and hit the battlements was sheer force of will. “That’s…quite a leap, your grace.”

“This way if necessary I can place you in the throne room with Cullen and myself on days we’re forced to entertain guests. Cullen’s second in command is a piece of work, and I’d much rather see you at his side. You also have the added bonus of not being a former Templar.” She tucked a loose wisp of hair back into her ponytail, rolling her neck. “And frankly, I’m counting on you to unnerve the fuck out of the damn Orlesian bastards who keep trying to feel Cullen up. He’s too polite to break their fingers.”

“Has this been a problem in the past?” he asked, and she nodded, glowering.

“When the Orlesian’s first moved in we didn’t think much of it, but they haven’t done much to change their ways.” She scowled, looking down at the courtyard where Cullen had emerged to launch into a tirade at an awkward looking Lieutenant. “Cullen’s particularly uncomfortable with it, being Fereldan.”

“I’ll do what I can.” 

“Good.” She stretched, smiling. “So… can you teach me the watermelon trick?”

oOo

Cullen heard his door open and sighed, still typing his report. “For the last time, _no_ , I am not letting you requisition trebuchets and coconuts just to see what happens.”

“Now that sounds like an interesting conversation,” an amused voice said, and his head shot up to see Krem leaning against the doorway. His mouth went dry. His eyes wandered up the long, lean lines of Krem’s body, taking in the tight pants shoved into tall boots, the tank top with some sort of symbol emblazoned on it, and the same leather jacket as before, all neatly rounded off with artfully cut hair and a solitary hoop in one ear. Maker, he was going to have to stay seated for this.

“It’s an ongoing fight,” he admitted, and Krem pushed off the doorway, sauntering in. _Predator_ , his brain supplied helpfully, and he licked his lips. Krem’s eyes caught the movement and flicked back up to meet his as he leaned on the desk, neatly inserting himself into Cullen’s space.

“Well, I guess I need to find a new patch for my jacket,” he said. “It seems I’ve been promoted.”

“You have?” Cullen scrambled to think. “I mean. I definitely knew that, as Commander of this army. And absolutely signed off on it. At some point. I’m certain.”

Krem grinned, teeth flashing. “Sergeant Major. I think I could get used to the title.”

Cullen whistled softly. “The Inquisitor must really like you.”

“Well, I’m rather fond of Her Grace as well, so I guess it evens out.” He reached over, plucking a pen up and twirling it. “So. Ready to go?”

“Go? Go where?”

“Dinner. On me.”

“I- oh.” Cullen blinked, both surprised and thrilled. “Give me a few minutes to change.”

oOo

Dinner turned out to be a small café in a hidden corner of the city, and Cullen found himself relaxing as he and Krem chatted easily about the day. Cars bustled past, people rushed to and fro, but at the little table by the window time seemed utterly unimportant. Cullen had been delighted to find they carried foods with names he could pronounce, and even dared to try some of Krem’s terrifyingly strong Minrathous style coffee. He felt dizzy with happiness.

“I’ve known you all of four days,” he said abruptly, and Krem raised an eyebrow as he worked through a plate of hen. “And yet this is the happiest I’ve been in months.”

“I feel accomplished,” Krem said with a grin, and Cullen paused, something clicking.

“Are we on a date?”

Krem hid a smile. “Do you want us to be?”

Cullen felt a slow smile grow on his face, and let his feet tangle with Krem’s. “Yes,” he said, his heart swelling, and Krem lifted his hand to kiss his knuckles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two will be the death of me.


	4. Chapter 4

“I seem to have fallen in with the Inquisition,” Krem told The Iron Bull as they dealt with a small house fire the next day. Bull raised his eyebrow from where he was wrangling hoses. The house was now under control there had been minimal damage, and all seemed to be well enough. Someone had put Grim in charge of comforting the family, so the group was now standing in a somber, stoic circle surveying the house. It seemed to be working.

“This one of those military things again?”

“Something like that. I think the official term is paid consultant, but I’ve got rank and everything.” He tightened down straps and looked back at Bull, uncertain. “Are you okay with this?”

Bull laughed, clapping a massive hand on his shoulder. “Krem,” he said fondly, “when I met you, every time you woke up you saluted. Took you two years to break the habit. I know that you loved the military, for all the shit you had to put up with. It was your place, and now we’ve given you a new one. I’m happy that you get to revisit that part of yourself. Hell, you refused to let go of you patches, I think that says a few things about you.”

Krem couldn’t help the wave of relief that washed through him. “Thanks, chief.” 

Bull squeezed his shoulder and went to help Skinner.

oOo

Tuesdays and Thursdays were the only times he could really come in, but he whistled cheerfully as he headed for the training grounds. It had been some time since he’d had the pleasure of knocking heads together, and he was thoroughly looking forward to it.

Scout Harding appeared at his side, grinning cheerily up at him. “Morning to you. Sergeant Major, huh? You’re the first.”

“Apparently they’re making up titles as they go,” he said, amused. She grinned. 

“It’s a good one. Nice and official sounding. We’ve a few former Templars with all sorts of weird ones.”

“How many?”

“35. Most of them are just knights, but we’ve three Knight-Lieutenants, a bunch of Knight-Archers, one Knight-Leftenant that I think might be a Free Marcher, and two Knight-Captains, but only one that's actually in charge of anything. And the Commander, but he’s dropped the Knight thing.” 

Both of them avoided making a night-things joke, but the look they gave each other confirmed they were both thinking it. They rounded the corner to see Cullen’s second in command running drills, and Scout Harding smiled. “A case in point. Knight-Captain Rylen. A good man, quite reasonable.”

“Still a Templar?”

“Technically. He’s not so much a templar as a man who just happened to get caught up in the Chantry. He’s a good commander, and Cullen seems to think he hung the moon. He deals with most of the day to day army work while Cullen gets stuck shuffling papers. Completely useless at any social gathering that isn’t with the troops.”

“I like him already.” 

They made their approach, and Rylen looked over and beamed. “Ah! Sergeant Major Aclassi, glad you decided to join us!” A hand shot up in the center of the troops, and Rylen sighed. “Yes, Private Morris?”

“Just want to congratulate him on the promotion, sir!”

Private Morris was really growing on him.

“Thank you, Private,” Krem said, addressing the group at large. He had yet to figure out which one Morris actually _was_. He was almost certain that there was a set of quadruplets as well, and that made things a little baffling. 

Rylen clapped his hands together. “And thankfully, this is where I leave you sorry lot to the tender mercies of our new Sergeant Major. I understand he’s drilling you on maul, mace, and ball and chain today. Behave and maybe I'll have Mama Cullen grant you some free time this weekend.”

Cullen took that moment to poke his head out of his office directly above where they were practicing and yell, “I heard that, Rylen.”

There was a chorus of whistles, laughs, and at least one, “We love you!” back up at him, and Cullen shook his head. 

“You’re all impossible,” he said. “And eat your vegetables!”

He whirled back into his office, and Krem clapped his hands together to get their attention. Today was going to be _fun_.

oOo

“A party,” Dalish said slowly over cards during the evening shift. Grim grunted, throwing down and taking the pot to a chorus of groans. “Chief’s pet wants us there? Us, us?”

“Yeah, us us.” Krem glared at Grim. “How the hell’d you do that?”

Grim just grinned, and started dealing again.

“Anyway. He’s invited the lot of us, if work allows. Wicked Grace night.” He glared at the cards, looking back up to see Grim grinning. “Are you stacking the deck?”

Skinner dropped down next to Dalish, kissing under her ear to make her grin. “A party?”

“A party,” Krem confirmed.

“Our kind of party?” she asked, a little suspicious, and Stitches coughed a little. Grim grinned, nudging him fondly. Stitches was the only one who got even remotely embarrassed about the frankly ridiculous amount of swinging sex the group had, and while Krem never joined in, he’d been privy to more than a few of their parties on the basis that they needed someone to supervise. His life was weird.

“No, not your kind of party. No sex, just cards and drinks. Well, maybe the Chief and the Vint will go for it, but I doubt they would with us in the room.” He glared at his hand again. “Grim, I think you’re stacking the deck.”

Grim held up his hands in a show of innocence, and Krem glared.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I messed up my timeline, you'll want to go reread 4 before reading this, since a section has been moved and replaced.

The party was surprisingly reasonable, and Krem found a chair next to Bull and perched on it while Lavellan bounded over to meet the rest of Bull’s assorted children. Cullen had already been dragged into a game with Dorian and some of the others, and he settled for watching a few rounds as he worked his way through a bottle of beer. Bull chatted with people as they came and went, and after about two rounds Dorian got up to welcome the rest of the people.

He just couldn’t stop watching Cullen, who was working his way through drinks almost worryingly fast. He was a handsome man, he had to admit, and he was still feeling a little floaty after their rather impromptu date.

Cullen glanced up, smiling shyly at him before looking back down.

“Copper for your thoughts?” Bull asked slyly. 

“Gold’s what I’d require,” Krem said immediately, not looking away from Cullen. 

“Just thinking you’re watching at Cullen a little closely.” Krem kicked his side. “Ow! Just saying.”

Krem was about to retort when Cullen looked up, calling, “Krem, back me up here!”

Rolling his eyes at how blatantly obvious he was, Krem hopped down and walked over, leaning on Cullen’s chair. The commander looked up at him with pitiful eyes, making him snort with laughter as Dorian brushed past to take his now vacant seat. 

“Stitches is cheating,” he said, eyes wide with innocence, and Krem snorted, leaning down to look at Cullen’s hand. It was a terrible hand.

“I think you’ve just had a string of bad luck,” he said, letting his hand rest on the back of Cullen’s neck. He went very still for a moment, and Krem wondered if he’d pushed too far, but then he was complaining again as if nothing had happened. Stitches laughed, his eyes fixing on Krem’s hand and flicking up in curious question. Krem shook his head just barely, and Stitches twitched a nod in return. Message received- no one would bother him or Cullen about this. Teasing was not going to be tolerated.

“Come on, let’s get some food in you before you get too drunk,” Krem said, and dragged a protesting Cullen away from the table.

oOo

He managed to get a very reluctant Cullen to start on the small tarts that had appeared out of nowhere, and then couldn’t get him to stop. Amused, he simply leaned against Dorian’s immaculate counters and watched as the commander neatly devoured the lot of them. “You’ve got a bit of a sweet tooth, don’t you?”

Cullen looked up guiltily, licking the crumbs off his lips, and Krem laughed. Cullen brightened up, smiling in return, and settled in next to him.

“So,” he said, looking down to meet Krem’s eyes, and grinned like a kid. “Come here often?”

Krem groaned, and the rest of the evening seemed to dissolve from there. Later, he had no clue quite what they talked about, but it was engaging, he felt lighter than he had in ages, and he knew he’d have done almost anything to keep those warm eyes on him. Somewhere along the way Cullen asked for a ride, and somewhere along the way, he said yes, and that was how they ended up in his beat up little car, Cullen with his head leaned against the window smiling at the scenery. They were let into Skyhold by the guards, who recognized him easily, and Cullen was steady enough not to need a great deal of help, but unsteady enough that stairs were something of a challenge.

The ladder made life interesting, but they did, eventually, get him into his room.

“This is ridiculous,” Krem said as Cullen stripped off the (rather well tailored) red coat he so favored, hanging it on a mannequin with his armor. “You have a hole in your ceiling.” He noted the telescope collapsed in a corner, and was completely unsurprised. A small writing desk was covered with astronomy books and a mess of star charts with notations all over them.

“I like to look at the stars,” Cullen said stubbornly, dropping onto his (broken, definitely broken) bed with a _whuff_ of exhalation. 

“Then have them put in a trapdoor or something, you’ll freeze when winter hits.” Krem sat on the bed, smiling when Cullen rolled over to be closer. “And a new bed probably wouldn’t be amiss. You need your beauty rest.”

Cullen snorted. “What, to keep my ruggedly handsome good looks?” He laughed a little when Krem pushed him onto his back. “Dorian’s funny like that.”

“Funny like what?”

“Flirting when really he just wants friends,” Cullen said, a little sadly. “I wonder about it sometimes. If he thinks that’s the only way for people to like him.”

Krem reached out, tentatively running his fingers through Cullen’s curls, and Cullen sighed restively as they loosened. “Maybe. Love is for the Soporati, after all. An Altus like him, he’d have been betrothed by the time he was six to the most genetically excellent specimen of a woman they could find. I met a couple who lived on opposite ends of the country but stayed married, just for one very sad kid.” 

“Tevinter is terrible and I’m glad you’re here instead,” Cullen said, taking Krem’s hand and tangling their fingers together. “We should date.”

Krem felt a slow smile spread across his face at the earnestness in Cullen’s voice. “And where should we go on these dates?”

“To places with food. I’m pretty sure that’s what dates are, though I’m not very good at them,” Cullen confessed. “Too awkward, they say. Most of them. The other ones see the shaking or know about my past and that drives them off real quick.”

“Well, more for me then,” Krem said softly, and Cullen smiled, relaxing into his pillows. “If I go, will you get properly undressed and get some sleep?”

“Maaaybe.”

“Do you want me to stay? I have to be gone by dawn.”

“Yesss.”

Krem shook his head, exasperated, and Cullen grinned cheekily up at him. “I hope you have extra pajamas.” As Cullen carefully rolled out of bed, he glanced at his phone. Alarms on, yes, he’d get about four hours of rest. He needed to go in and finish paperwork before eight, and after that he could go home or possibly to Grim’s place. Grim and Stitches were probably shacked up with Rocky for the night, he’d be a welcome addition to their bed, and he always slept better with other people.

Other…people… _fuck_. His binder.

He turned and was promptly offered a pair of ridiculous purple linen pants and a positively enormous t-shirt in black. Cullen looked at him in all seriousness, and said, “If you’d like to have me sleep blindfolded I could do that.”

What. “ _What?_ Why would you do that?”

Cullen shrugged. “It was a thing. In Calenhad. There was a templar who bound and couldn’t sleep with it on, so to help him feel more comfortable we slept with blindfolds.”

Well that was unexpected. Touched, and more than a little surprised, Krem said, “I think I’ll be okay.”

Cullen nodded amiably, and promptly started stripping. Krem whipped around. This time _he_ was the one blushing. Andraste’s ass, the man was built, and while he’d spent more than his fair share of time around good looking, well built people while running around with the army, this was different. He clutched the clothes to his chest, and realized that Cullen, even though he was still drunk enough to need watching, had picked out a dark, large shirt that would obscure his form. He swallowed hard, unsure what to think about that, and chanced a look behind to make sure the man wasn’t about to go careening down the ladder or something. Cullen had successfully managed pants, and was trying to put his head through the arm hole of his shirt.

“I think it shrunk,” he said, his voice muffled, and Krem laughed as he went to help him.

Once Cullen was safely installed in bed, he changed as well. Carefully folding his clothes, he left them on a chair for easy finding, and dropped into bed. It was surprisingly comfortable, and Cullen rolled over, smiling sleepily at him.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he murmured, reaching over to rest his hand on the back of Krem’s head. He pressed their foreheads together, sighing happily, and Krem watched as he fell asleep with a lump in his throat and his eyes a little bit wet.

oOo

Dawn came quickly, and he woke with one chirp of his alarm. He’d slept well, and was startled to find that Cullen had curled up, his head tucked under Krem’s chin as he slept soundly. He gently stroked the wild curls, staring out of the hole in the ceiling for a moment before reluctantly sliding away. Cullen made a soft, slightly pained noise, and he carefully tucked the blankets in tight around him. Cullen relaxed again, moving into the warm spot he’d left, and Krem wanted nothing more than to get back into bed.

 _You barely know the man,_ he scolded himself, quickly redressing and folding Cullen’s things. He scrawled a quick note telling him he’d be back for training, and went to get him some water from the pitcher that he’d notice the when he brought him in. A quick check around the office revealed a small box of hangover cures, one of which he brought up with the water, and left within easy reach. He paused, smiling as Cullen buried his nose in the pillow he’d slept on, and hurried downstairs before he could start feeling too sappy.

oOo

“I’ve decided to devote today to my gay panic,” Cullen announced over chess, and firmly kept his eyes on the chess board as Dorian leaned forward to examine it. There. He’d said the words, it was out in the open, he’d officially said it and now he was going to have to handle the consequences.

“As in you’re just going to panic today?”

“Yes.” He rolled his eyes as Dorian very blatantly switched his Tower and Grand Cleric. “I saw that. Try again.”

“Let me have my fun, damn you.” He put them back, reluctantly moving the Grand Cleric. “So. Gay panic. I can’t imagine that’s fun.”

Cullen hesitantly looked up. There was no teasing in Dorian’s voice, just calm thoughtfulness. He was looking at Cullen with calm understanding, and he had to swallow back the lump in his throat. “I’ve never thought about anything like this. I’m _thirty_ , you’d think I would have figured it out by now.”

“Or Krem’s just the exception to the rule, unless you see him as a woman.”

Cullen stared blankly at him. “Why would I see Krem as a woman?”

Dorian hesitated, and it clicked.

“Oh! Because he’s trans?”

Dorian cocked his head, the game apparently forgotten. “Is that the Fereldan term for it?”

“It’s a very old term,” Cullen said, stretching his stiff leg. “From “transcendent”. It’s not really accurate, it’s for people who aren’t encumbered by all this gender stuff. When people first started talking about it they were worshipped by the Chantry as ascended beings. It got a little creepy here and there, but it calmed down eventually. I know a few who were templars.” He waved a hand, and Dorian stared blankly. “We call them agender now, but trans seemed to stick for those who got stuck with the body parts that tended to be with one or the other. Or others, rather.”

Dorian stared, fascinated. “I had no idea. We don’t have anything like that in Tevinter. No words for that sort of thing. The best I can translate is ‘one in the wrong body’, which doesn’t seem to match with what you’ve said.”

Cullen shrugged. “It’s not that uncommon here. Normally by the time children are about three or four they’ve realized who they are and tell their parents.”

“They just… tell their parents.”

“Well…yes.” Cullen shrugged. “Gender is just a big wobbly mishmash of things and expectations in Ferelden. Sure, there’s some general shit when it comes to inheriting and titles, but for the most part people don’t care. Why should we? It’s their body, not ours. They decide how they feel about it.”

Dorian stared, amazed. “If I were not a happily taken man, I would lean over and kiss you right now,” he said fervently, and Cullen went pink, looking down at the board. It had been completely rearranged.

“In any case,” he said, moving his Divine (now four squares where she had been), “I don’t see Krem as a woman. I just… don’t seem to feel attraction to much of anyone, but looking at him was like a breath of fresh air. And Lavellan, now that I think about it. Before that, I hadn’t really paid much attention to people in general. Bodies aren’t all that important to me.”

“Interesting.” Dorian considered this, moving his knight. “I, on the other hand, am all about bodies. I enjoy the body intensely, and women- no. Very much no. People- trans, you said? Trans people, I think I would be all right with. But it would be tricky.”

“So… I’m not gay?” Cullen looked at Dorian with a bit of desperation, and he reached over to gently take Cullen’s hands. 

“Cullen, I hate to break this to you, but you’re probably going to spend quite a bit of your life figuring out where, precisely, you want to identify. If you want to use gay, that’s just fine,” he said, and Cullen looked down at their joined hands.

“I really just want this to be simple.”

“I know.” Dorian squeezed his hands. “ _Believe me_ , I know. But gay is perfectly acceptable. Sera’s lesbian, yes?”

“Yes.”

“But she still uses gay as a descriptor on her blog.”

“Sera has a blog?”

“ _That’s_ what you’re taking from this? Stop deflecting.” He let go, reaching up to pat Cullen’s cheek. “It’s okay. And if you decide you never want to label yourself, that’s just fine as well.”

Cullen smiled back down at the board. “Thanks, Dorian. Also, check.”

“What!?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last section of this chapter is basically me just punching my dysphoria in the face repeatedly via Cullen's words and beliefs. And retconning the hell out of Fereldan culture regarding trans folk because I'm writing this fic and nothing can stop me. I spent the day I wrote it in 100 degree weather listening to my friend be misgendered and boy howdy I needed to have this be a culture where this isn't a bad thing, or something that scares people.


	6. Chapter 6

Krem joined him for lunch on Friday, and Cullen was a bundle of nerves by the time he arrived. He’d obsessively reorganized his desk and bookshelves at least four times, cleaned out his inbox for the third, and was pacing when Krem finally opened the door and leaned on the frame. He was breathtaking, jeans shoved into boots and his black jacket rolled up to reveal his thick forearms. 

“You’re adorable,” he drawled, and Cullen grumbled under his breath, walking over as his runners scattered away from the door, all of them grinning. Traitors.

“I was just cleaning.”

“Mmhmm.” Krem reached out, catching his shirt and pulling him in. Cullen groaned softly, thrilled by the casual possessiveness of the gesture. “You gonna kiss me?”

Cullen grinned, leaning down and sliding a hand around the back of Krem’s neck to tip his head up. Krem sighed happily into it, and when they pulled back, he nodded approvingly.

“Adequate for a first kiss?” Cullen drawled back, and Krem rolled his eyes, stepping inside properly and kicking the door closed.

“More than. Feed me, you romantic sap.”

Cullen chuckled, and led him over to the table he’d had brought up and put in the corner. Josephine had been more than thrilled to fill his request, and gave him a particularly lovely wooden one with matching chairs and a lovely red and orange table cloth with pleasing patterns. 

Krem draped himself on the chair, grinning at the spread. “Aw, look at you. So domestic.”

“I try.” Cullen sat, and couldn’t help smiling when Krem tangled their feet together. “Now who’s a sap?”

“Still you, handsome. I’m not the one who cut the strawberries into little hearts.”

“I- What?” He peered at the fruit and groaned. “Josephine!”

Krem laughed, popping one in his mouth, and Cullen felt any lingering nerves disappearing. Lunch was a relaxed affair, and by the time they were done he was smiling serenely.

“Do you think we’re going to be ready for the Arishok?” Krem asked, and Cullen sighed. Serenity gone. Damn.

“Frankly, no. He’s the Arishok. I don’t know how you can prepare for the Arishok without preparing for a full blown Qunari invasion, or at least the Beresaad.” Cullen grimaced. “I’ve met him before. He’s… unique.”

Krem raised an eyebrow, surprised. “You’ve met the Arishok? When?”

Cullen sighed, standing up, and they moved to the couch. Krem sprawled, patting his leg, and Cullen flopped onto it, resting his head on Krem’s lap. He wondered vaguely if he should feel uncomfortable with how easily they had moved into each others space, as if they had been there all along. “It’s been about ten years now. I was 19, and he was still just a Sten of the Beresaad. He was travelling with the Hero of Ferelden. They came to Kinloch Hold. Saved us all. I was… I was young. Broken. More than I am now. I made many mistakes that day, and I assure you, he was not impressed.”

Krem took his hand, squeezing gently. “Shit. That’s intense.”

Cullen tried not to be too grateful that Krem didn’t press about Kinloch, closing his eyes as he clutched his hand. “He’s changed, I’m sure, but he was tall, and very lean. Thick in the arms, but the rest of him was pretty slender compared to Bull. He’s probably not even as tall as him, and no horns. He kept his hair in braids and a bun at the base of his neck. Handsome, I suppose, but in a very cold way. But when he looked at her, well. I wouldn’t say he went soft, but he seemed a little calmer inside. Like she was a puzzle that made sense within his whole soul.”

Cullen sighed, opening his eyes. Krem didn’t seem at all disturbed, just listening quietly. 

“Alistair- I don’t know if you know about him, he was the Grey Warden with the Hero, well. He and I grew up together. He was a Templar for a while, but…” Cullen sighed. “He hated it. He was forced into it. It didn’t suit him, and it was slowly killing his soul. He was desperately unhappy. But when I saw him the same day, he was so much better, even surrounded by all the blood and chaos. Healthier. Happier, just being by her side.” He squeezed Krem’s hand, and Krem smiled down at him. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Krem ran his free hand through Cullen’s curls, smiling fondly. “For the record, I’m glad I am too.”

oOo

On Wednesday morning, Krem helped The Iron Bull dress in his uniform, stamping vitaar on the exposed arms in careful, pleasing patterns. The clothes fit perfectly, a master work of careful tucks, cursing, and long hours of trying to tailor a form so large. Krem had never been particularly grateful for his fathers’ teachings until he started working with Bull, who was a nightmare to find clothes for. He adjusted the shoulders, taking a deep breath as he looked him over. Bull stood, and he nodded.

“Good,” he muttered, walking around to check everything. “It’s all good.” Stepping back, he looking in a mirror to double check himself. 

“You’re fine, Krem.”

Krem nodded absently, fussed with his hair a bit, and they headed out the doors with only a bit of a detour so Krem could harangue some of the newbies for their gear being in the wrong place.

They reached Skyhold with time to spare, and Krem vanished to go find Cullen while Bull was grilled by Josephine. The Commander was pacing by the wall, pale and clearly anxious. Krem caught his arm, dragging him off to a deserted corner. Cullen exhaled shakily as Krem pushed him up against a wall, relief on every line of his face.

“Thank you,” he whispered, and Krem smiled, pulling him into a hungry kiss. Cullen moaned into it, letting Krem step into him and pin him down.

In between ragged breaths, Krem murmured, “Should have stayed over last night or something. Just so we wouldn’t be so damn desperate every time we meet up.”

Cullen chuckled, low and dark. “I like it,” he growled, dragging him back in, his arms tight around him. 

The faint crunch of footsteps made them spring apart, Krem quickly fixing his hair and Cullen adjusting his shirt as Lavellan peeked around at them. “Oh, sorry,” she winced. “It looks like they’re almost here.”

“Of course,” Cullen said, clearing his throat. “We’ll be right over.”

Lavellan gave them a knowing look and walked away, and Krem pulled Cullen down for one more slow, needy kiss before they followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haaaaa, I'm slow on this one. But hey, at least there's a chapter. Finally.


End file.
